Advent (continued)

I went back to Sunday evening mass with Father Fire and Brimstone for the second week of Advent.  There's been a big push to welcome people back to church when they turn up for Christmas.  I'm all for that.  In fact, send them my way.  Looking for church with organ music?  With an older crowd?  On a winding road?  I can get you there.  Oh, wait, you want them to come to this church...

The word being tossed about has been stodgy.   We were told for two weeks in a row that we were too cold and too uptight and that people like other nearby churches because they are all warm and fuzzy.  I've been to some stodgy churches, and I don't think this is one of them.  In fact, I don't think it's stodgy enough.  I wear jeans half the time I'm there for goodness sake.

But really, when I find myself searching, I could use a little more order in my mass and a little less open mike night.  So I took a break from Sunday evening mass and checked out Sunday morning.  The mass itself was a little more me, but I'm not so sure about the crowd.

In other news...

I went back to Nativity for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and it was lovely.

I have finally been to see Handel's Messiah.  It was amazing and of course left me with lots of questions.  The biggest  being why do we sing this at Christmas?  It was written for Easter tide.  Christmas last year, I commented that Rick "we can't change manger to feed box because that would be ridiculous" Hilgartner has a nice voice.  Turns out I was right.  He sang the Messiah with the rest of the Baltimore Symphonic Chorale.

I'm glad I included book club for one on my to do list for this year.  Rebuilt: The Story of Building a Catholic Mega Church (okay, that's not the real title) will be hitting an online bookseller near you in February.  I'm writing a book too.  It's called Demolished.  Or Already Built.  Well, it's a work in progress.

And lastly Theology on Tap has gotten off to a sputtering start.  If at first you don't succeed...

Here's to finding joy in the third week of Advent.  Until next week...

Year Two

Advent begins the liturgical year, and so I begin year two.  I was trying to roll things about by November 1, but you, loyal readers, know about my slothfulness.  So here I am. In this past year, I  wanted to establish the habit of going to church.  So far so good.  I've been every week since finishing up my tour at the Basilica.

I've been to two old standards and some how managed to get to stewardship Sunday at both.  At one, the pastor pointed out that the Sunday evening mass collects $2000 in one dollar bills.  "This isn't planned giving," he said.  I would argue.  I had some crumpled up dollar bills in my pocket.  That was pretty amazing, because cash is kind of a novelty item for me.  And more importantly, there are churches where $2000 in pennies would be welcome.

This first week of Advent, I made it to another old favorite.  Or at least a place I want to be a favorite.  But it was driving me a little crazy.  And Father Fire and Brimstone didn't leave me feeling all warm and Christmasy.  But I'm too stubborn to give this up.  (By the way, why do people say stubborn like it's a bad thing?)

I don't know that I can come up with an idea as great as this last one or even if the new year has to top the old one.  I tried getting ideas from my friends, who proved to be less than merciful.  I'm not, for example, attempting to start a prayer group for  pagan babies.

It's not much, but here's what I've got.  52 new things.  New churches.  Parish activities.  My own personal book club.  Acts of service.  The best part?  I make the rules, so I say what counts.

And then I got to thinking, if I can put this part of my life in order (well, sort of), can I launch another personal project?  More on that later.  For now, my gift has been placed under the sharing tree and I'm reading (very slowly) The Jesuit Guide to Almost Everything.  Happy Advent.

week two

This is the week I landed back at St. Pius X and back at 5:30 mass.  The rundown...

Old Friends: Check.

Clock time: One hour.   (Fr. Sam had a train to catch or something.  With this week's "sell all, give to the poor, and come follow me" reading, I thought we would experience one fired up homily about the evils of greed.  I hate to admit  I was a little disappointed.)

Crying babies:  Allowed.  (Lauren threatened to sign me up for Children's Liturgy.)

Boxtops: Tithed.

Music:  Shine FM.  No tambourines.  (if they could back off, just a little...)

Is parish life for me?

week one (kidding,kidding...)

 How do you measure a year?

churches: 52

Sundays skipped: 2 (careful readers will note the Epiphany and well, um, Easter are not quite accounted for.  Those are stories for another time.)

non-Catholic churches: 1

number of people suckered into coming to church with me: 7

states: 2

counties: 6

dioceses:  4

tambourines: 4?

tuxedos: 1

priests: 51

Obviously this requires more thought...so for now...Week 53.  

This week, the question "where are we going to church this week?" took on whole new meaning.  I had let myself out of my self opposed obligation to go to a new church every week.  I've decided I'm not done yet, but have also decided that this pace is getting annoying.  Maybe one a month for the next year.  I hope to role out the next phase of my crazy ideas soon.

I felt strangely compelled to go back to Nativity.  Once upon a time, I had a lofty idea that I would go back to 5:30 mass at St. Pius and celebrate with dinner(beer) afterwards.  But how was I supposed to know that Sunday would be cool and rainy and that the Orioles would be in an afternoon playoff game?

So then it was down to the monastery and Nativity for a morning mass.  I mean they are both easy, largely in part because they are right here.  

There were a few things that bummed me out about Nativity.  I didn't notice last time, or maybe they hadn't done it yet, but the shelf below the pew that holds hymnals has been removed.  It looks like an end to Gather books forever.  

It was loud in there.  Really loud.    (To quote me to me, I was looking for protected, quiet time.)  There was significant pre-mass chatter and high volume music.  The lector is a member of the parish staff and seems to read at all the masses.  Kids are pretty well kicked out, and it makes me kind of sad.  Somewhere out there, there are adults who put up with the likes of me in church.  And so much for fasting before mass, I saw a lady actually bring coffee into church with her.

But there was an amazing, albeit lengthy, homily based on First Corinthians: Love always trusts.  I think if you go to their website, you can watch it too.  

I left thinking about all the things that I just wanted to fix.  I wondered about all the old friends I had hoped to see, but didn't.  Instead, I decided it's time to stop searching for memories and start making new ones.   

See you Sunday.  

Basilica of the National Shrine of Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

So here we are.  52 churches and 52 weeks later, I'm trying to figure out how to sum up this year.  Tambourines?  Favorite guides to the New Roman Missal?  Odometer readings?  For now, I'll stick to the usual post.

The Basilica is the last stop on the official tour.  They offer a Sunday afternoon mass.  We were reminded to turn off our cell phones so not to disturb the liturgy as someone leaned on a car horn outside and sirens of all kinds blared.  The dome has suffered earthquake damage and the church is full of scaffolding and curtains.  Figures, I have visited many beautiful buildings under construction.  I haven't actually seen the new renovations, been on the tour, or spent any time in the John Paul II garden.  

The crowd trickled in and there was a talented cantor and organ.  Familiar songs seemed a little slow and formal set to organ music.  Apparently there is a sign in the sacristy that says: Danger.  Work Zone.  Hard hat required.  Apparently there is a prayer in there too: Celebrate this Mass as if it were your first Mass.  Celebrate this Mass as if it were your only Mass.  Celebrate this mass as if it were your last Mass.  Put those two ideas together, and you've got the homily.  All in all, a fitting end to one crazy idea.  

Saint Vincent de Paul

The last two weeks of this adventure have fallen into busy weekends.  Figures.  The penultimate stop was Saint Vincent de Paul.  Many of you will know it as the green and white church at the end of 83. I went to Saturday evening mass at 7:15.  They even have a midnight mass (actually midnight fifteen) on Sundays.  How cool is that?

Weekly midnight mass brings up an interesting point.  So let me ask you,  Archdiocese of Baltimore, why are all of your masses at the same time?  All the Sunday evenings are at 5:30.  10 am masses are harder to find than I thought.  Saturday seems to land at 4.  And masses on holy days are all at the same time time too.  Can't you move them around, just  a little?

Saint Vincent's is a smaller church with dark wooden pews and dark wooden creaky floors.  The walls are white and the kneelers don't move.   They don't use a lectionary, but their altar Bible.   7:15 mass is a quiet mass with a small crowd and I see how that time could really work.   There were a few parents and kids, but the crowd was mostly older.   There are statues of Mary and Joseph and Saint Vincent tucked away on the side of the church.

It's also one of the few churches where I have seen a familiar face.  Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't go to church.

And then there was one.

Corpus Christi

Still behind.  So much for blog blast part deux.  September 16's church was Corpus Christi.  The summer scheduled had ended, so it was mass at 10:30.  The church is white with two columns of pews, 52 in total.  (They are numbered;  I didn't even have to count.)  It's often open during Artscape, so if you go, you should look inside and check out the cool mosaics.

We were greeted by an enthusiastic and happy usher.  We were a little early, but the church filled up by the end of the gathering hymn.  I would peg the group sitting behind me as former religious, but I can't be sure.  They spent a long time talking about sitting in the back of the church.  (See, I told you.  Everyone knows good Catholics sit in the back.)  They also used plenty of gender neutral language.

There was good music and I wanted to go outside and see if you can hear it from the street.  I didn't.  In categories of churches, it falls under churches with endless signs of peace.  The priest even made it back to row 52.

And then there were two.  I keep checking the count, but somehow that's right.  The last two come during busy weekends, but I'm hoping for the best.  In case you can't stand a cliffhanger, the penultimate church was Saint Vincent de Paul.